


a medium black coffee (with just a hint of something extra)

by thepensword



Series: TAZ Pride Week 2018 [4]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Day 8: Bonus Day, M/M, TAZ Pride Week, TAZ Pride Week 2018, holy crap did i write a coffee shop au, i think? they could have magic if you wanted them to, wowzers, yes - Freeform, yes i did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 20:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14961842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepensword/pseuds/thepensword
Summary: “Order for Kravitz,” calls the barista, and later Kravitz will marvel at the way his name sounds in that voice. But not now. Now, he drags his eyes away from where they had been staring blankly at the napkin dispenser and walks to the counter.“Oh,” he says, and blinks at the blueberry muffin sitting cheerfully beside the cup of coffee. “Um. Excuse me? I didn’t order—”The barista turns to him and smiles cheekily and Kravitz feels his heart skip a beat. “My treat,” says the barista. “And I added a little something to the coffee because plain black is boring and also—no offense—you look like you could use that little something, handsome.”And then he winks, and Kravitz can feel his soul ascend from his body.





	a medium black coffee (with just a hint of something extra)

**Author's Note:**

> hi there! this is my last fic for taz pride week and i had a lot of fun with it. you can check out the accompanying artwork i did for it [here](https://thepensword.tumblr.com/post/175009365194/taako-is-lovely-and-loud-and-unabashedly).

* * *

 

**one**

* * *

 

It is raining the first time they meet. Kravitz will remember that detail like he will remember every other detail of this day; the pattern of raindrops on the glass windows and the distinctive coffee-shop smells in the air, the plain black coffee he orders and the way his head is ringing from too much work and too little sleep.

He’ll remember these things. He’ll remember them forever, held close to his chest like they’re something precious. (They are mundane, but they mean so much.)

“Order for Kravitz,” calls the barista, and later Kravitz will marvel at the way his name sounds in that voice, lilting and rolled up with a hint of suggestion. He will hear it every day and it will make his heart leap every time. But not now. Now, he drags his eyes away from where they had been staring blankly at the napkin dispenser and walks to the counter.

“Oh,” says Kravitz, and blinks at the blueberry muffin sitting cheerfully beside the cup of coffee. “Um. Excuse me? I didn’t order—”

The barista turns to him and smiles cheekily and Kravitz feels his heart skip a beat. “My treat,” says the barista, and distantly Kravitz registers that his name tag reads _Taako_. “And I added a little something to the coffee because plain black is boring and also—no offense—you look like you could use that _little something_ , handsome.”

And then he winks.

Kravitz feels heat in his cheeks and swallows thickly. “Thanks,” he manages, and then hurries away as fast as his legs will take him.

The ‘little something’ in his coffee is, as it turns out, a little bit of alcohol and a little bit of cinnamon. These flavors shouldn’t work together, but they do, and paired with the muffin Kravitz feels almost ready to take on the world.

He walks back into work with a spring in his step and the resolve to return to the coffee shop the next day. Not for the barista, of course. For the coffee.

 _Yes,_  he tells himself. _Definitely for the coffee._

 

* * *

**two**

* * *

 

“So,” says Taako in that lilting voice Kravitz has come to recognize instantly. There’s the sound of a chair scraping against the floor as Taako turns it around and sits on it backwards, elbows propped against the backrest and eyebrows lifted over stunningly teal eyes. “You got a name, handsome?”

Kravitz nearly chokes on his coffee. As it is, hot liquid splashes out to dot the tabletop and, unfortunately, his sleeve. He rubs at it absentmindedly with a napkin for a moment before giving up; it probably won’t show up on the dark fabric anyway.

It has been three weeks. Three weeks of coming to the cafe, of ordering black coffee, of getting something else with a little more spice and a pastry on the side. Taako made the pastries himself, Kravitz discovers on his fifth visit, and somehow that isn’t surprising.

Taako doesn’t seem the type to deal in anything less than perfection.

(So why is he bothering with Kravitz?)

“Um,” says Kravitz eloquently. “My name is Kravitz.”

One of Taako’s already elevated eyebrows lifts higher above the other and he blinks. Kravitz finds his gaze drawn to the ridiculous curl of the lashes; he thinks the barista must be wearing mascara. “Kravitz, huh? Well, I’m Taako, though I suspect you already know that.” He gestures to his name tag and winks and Kravitz squeezes his fingers tight around the end of his sleeve in an attempt to force the heat out of his cheeks.

(He’s not entirely successful.)

“Well, _Kravitz_ ,” says Taako, and reaches for a napkin. He scribbles something on it in bright blue ink and then pushes it across the table. “I’m not doing anything tonight, so…”

Kravitz blinks. “So?”

“So,” drawls Taako. He sounds amused. “Call me.”

And then he’s gone, and Kravitz is staring at the number scrawled on the napkin in a large, extravagant hand.

“Oh,” says Kravitz.

 

* * *

 

**three**

* * *

 

_{i}_

“Where do you work?” asks Taako. “Hell? You dress like you’re from Hell. Do you work at a morgue or something? Funeral home? Hot Topic?”

The restaurant is nice. Really, really nice. Kravitz hasn’t been in a restaurant this nice in a really long time and honestly he’s kind of worried about the bill, but Taako had insisted and Kravitz is starting to suspect that whatever Taako wants, Taako gets. He’d gone home only briefly after work and changed into the nicest thing he owns: a slick black suit—which, as it happens, was in fact last worn at a funeral. (But he’s not about to tell Taako that.)

“Um. Walmart.”

Taako laughs and swirls his wine glass around in one elegantly manicured hand. He doesn’t look like someone who works at a coffee shop. He looks rather like some sort of movie star or model or something in his sleek purple ensemble with honest-to-god gold sequins all over it. “So basically Hell, then?”

Kravitz shrugs, conceding the point. “Yes, I suppose. Basically Hell.”

A silence descends on them that is not entirely uncomfortable. The restaurant is quiet with the gentle murmurs of conversation and the clink of silverware on plates. The candle burning between them fills the air with the sweet charcoal scent of smoke and lights up Taako’s eyes in such a way that they sparkle in unison with all those sequins.

Kravitz wonders if he did that on purpose.

“Why do you work at a coffee shop?” he asks before he can stop himself. Taako’s back goes rigid and Kravitz opens his mouth to apologize but then—

“I’m in between jobs,” says Taako. “I used to, um. I was a chef, for a while. A damn good one. And I got an offer to do a tv show and for a while it was amazing but right as we—I—was about to get big, uh. Well, you know how it is.”

Kravitz is not sure he _does_ know but the flippant tone Taako’s using seems so horribly feigned that he knows not to question it.

“How about you, tall-dark-and-handsome?” redirects Taako, corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing sort of half-smile that is _definitely_ practiced. “What’s the deal with Hell?”

And Kravitz wishes he had a legitimate answer for that, but he’s really not sure he even knows himself so instead he says, “Sometimes that’s just how the coin falls.”

Taako hums understandingly. Then he puts his wine glass down with a clink and gets to his feet. “This sucks,” he says. “Come on, let’s go, we’re better than this. Let’s go have fun.”

“Wait, Taako, the bill—”

Taako slams three twenties down on the table and flips his hair over his shoulder. “Fuck the bill,” he says, and struts out of the restaurant, leaving Kravitz to hurriedly apologize to their waiter and rush after him.

~~~

_{ii}_

Kravitz isn’t really sure how it happens but somehow they end up in a gay bar. The lights are flashing rainbow and the music is loud and Taako looks startlingly alive.

“Here,” says Taako, shoving a tall glass of something pink into his hands. “Drink up, we’re dancing.” He throws back a large gulp of his own alarmingly green beverage and grimaces. “God, that’s revolting. Hey, bartender, your ass is cute but your cocktails are horrendous. Get it together, my dude!”

Kravitz’s mouth drops open but the bartender just shakes his head and rolls his eyes and goes back to serving someone else. The woman sitting on Taako’s other side huffs out a laugh and smacks him lightly on the arm, and Taako grins at her before grabbing Kravitz’s wrist and dragging him towards the dancefloor.

“Are you a regular?” is what comes out of Kravitz’s mouth next, and he only realizes after he’s said it that he sounds really stupid. But Taako only smiles at him in a thin curving line and puts a hand on his waist.

“You bet your cute, Hot Topic-looking ass I’m a regular,” he says. “Ch’boy’s gotta get his party on somehow and my family is _boring_.”

Taako is lovely, and loud, and unabashedly unique. He’s also pressed very close to Kravitz’s chest and spinning them around and humming along to the terrible pop song that’s blasting overhead and smiling with closed lips.

 _Shit,_ thinks Kravitz.

 

* * *

 

**four**

* * *

 

_{i}_

Six weeks of coffee shop visits. Three weeks of dating. It’s a routine at this point, for Kravitz to walk in and for Taako to glance up at the chime of the bell with a smile already on his face. It’s nice. There’s no other word for it, whatever _it_ is; it’s nice.

So when Kravitz walks in and Taako isn’t there, well…

He orders his coffee with a frown. It comes exactly as ordered; a medium black coffee with no sugar or cream, and this time when he drinks it it doesn’t taste like cinnamon, and there’s no accompanying pastry. Kravitz sits down at his usual table with his thoughts in turmoil.

The chair opposite scrapes against the floor. Kravitz looks up in surprise, Taako’s name on his lips, and for a moment he thinks he’s right, but no—this isn’t Taako.

She looks like Taako. Same teal eyes, same blonde hair, same thin nose and stardust freckles. She looks like Taako, but she’s not him.

“Hey,” she says. There’s a smile on her face but something dangerous lies in the slope of her eyebrows. “You must be Kravitz.”

“Uh, yes.” Kravitz accepts the hand she offers across the table. Her grip is firm and confident, and her eyes don’t leave his for a second. “Excuse me, but—”

“He’s sick,” she says bluntly. “Nothing to worry about, just a bad head cold. He’ll get better with some rest but _god_ is he dramatic about it. He wanted me to come let you know because apparently his throat hurts too much to just call you and he says you don’t like texting.”

It’s true. Kravitz hates texting. It’s too hard to read tone and intention over text. But he’s never told Taako that, so how...

“That’s kind of him,” he says. “I was worried. May I ask who you are?”

The woman flips her hair back from her face in a way that’s reminiscent of Taako but a little less flirty, a little more dangerous. “Lup,” she says. “I’m Taako’s twin sister. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Her eyes are sharp and suddenly Kravitz gets the sense that he’s being tested somehow.

“Oh,” says Kravitz. “Well. Good things, I hope.”

“Yeah, good things. He says you’re nice. A gentleman, actually, is what he said. Said it’s sweet, if a little old-fashioned. Also he likes your butt.”

Kravitz’s entire face heats up. “Oh,” he says again. “Tell him thank—I mean, it’s recipro—I mean...shit.”

Lup laughs. It’s a nice sound. “You’re all right, demon boy,” she says. “Just don’t hurt my brother, hm? He’s been through some shit in the past.”

“I figured,” says Kravitz, and he says the next part seriously because he wants her to know that he means it. “I’d never hurt him.”

“Good.” She stands, stretching her arms over her head, and yawns. “Oh, and just a warning—now that Taako’s out of commission, expect some visitors.”

Kravitz opens his mouth to ask what the hell she means by that, but before he can, she winks at him and leaves, the bell chiming softly behind her.

_Visitors?_

~~~

_{ii}_

There’s a little boy waiting at his usual table.

He’s got dark curls and chocolate eyes and he turns towards Kravitz with a smile. There’s a notebook in his hands. He’s wearing an honest-to-god sweater vest.

“Hello, sir!” the boy says brightly. “You must be Kravitz! Please, come join me.”

Kravitz does so. The boy beams at him and sticks out a hand in a formal handshake. “My name is Angus McDonald!” he says. “I’ve heard all about you from Taako.”

Suddenly, Lup’s comment about expecting visitors makes sense. “You know Taako?” says Kravitz.

“Yes sir! He’s kind of like my dad!”

 _Holy shit,_ thinks Kravitz. _He has a son._

“It’s nice to meet you, Angus,” says Kravitz, suddenly far more nervous than he probably should be. Lup had been intimidating, but Kravitz knows with sudden certainty that if he messes this up somehow, his budding relationship with Taako will be cut short. Taako doesn’t seem the sort to prioritize a romantic interest over his child.

That said, Angus seems to be a good kid. He’s polite and intelligent, displaying a maturity beyond his years and a sharp wit that has Kravitz smiling more than once. They talk for a quarter of an hour and then Angus’ phone buzzes.

“Oh, looks like I best be going,” says Angus. “It’s nice to meet you, sir! I’m sure you’ll be a great boyfriend for Taako.”

Kravitz nods and smiles and watches him go, struck with the feeling once again that he has somehow passed a test.

~~~

_{iii}_

When Kravitz walks in the door and sees two men sitting at his table, he’s not even surprised. He’s even less surprised when they both turn to look at him. Slightly concerned and definitely nervous, yes, but not surprised.

He orders. Black coffee, medium, no cream. And, because Taako is sick, no cinnamon. No pastry.

The men introduce themselves as Magnus and Merle. They are, in Merle’s words, friends, and in Magnus’ words, ‘something like family’. Kravitz just sort of rolls with it. From what he can gather, Taako’s ‘family’ is an unconventional one, and that’s okay.

“Listen, Kravitz,” says Merle. “I don’t need to give you the _talk,_  do I?”

Magnus groans loudly and buries his head in his hands. “Oh my god Merle he’s an _adult_ —”

“So?”

Magnus and Merle are loud and rude and abrasive but they are kind and they are friendly. They are intimately comfortable with each other, from casual brushes to playful swats to shifting into and out of each other’s space, and Kravitz knows from looking at them that they are family even with the lack of resemblance. And he likes them.

(He thinks it would be nice to be a part of that mismatched little family. He keeps this thought to himself.)

“Yeah, okay, time to go.” says Merle, clambering to his feet and stretching loudly. “You’re okay, Kravitz.”

“Have I passed the test?” asks Kravitz with one eyebrow lifted. He’s only half-joking.

Magnus clamps a large hand down on his shoulder and smiles. The expression is a warm one, showing gleaming white teeth and reaching all the way up to soft brown eyes. “Yeah, seems that way. You make Taako smile when he talks about you, though, so it’s not like there was much to test after that.”

 _He makes Taako smile_.

They leave him with that thought as his lips part to form a smile of his own.

 

* * *

 

**five**

* * *

 

_{i}_

Taako has the whole thing planned out.

They’ve been dating for three months now. They’ve gone dancing and out to restaurants, they’ve stayed in to cuddle quietly on the couch, they’ve done game nights with the family. They’re comfortable around each other, and they care for each other, and Taako thinks what he’s feeling might be a little bit like love.

So it’s time for something different, and he’s got it planned out. There are two glasses of wine on the kitchen counter. His bed is made, and there are candles set on the dresser and on the nightstand. He’s ready. It’s going to be _perfect_.

Except his plans are now ruined because apparently Kravitz has never ever in his entire life had a home-baked chocolate chip cookie.

Taako sets his wine glass down on the counter so violently that the deep maroon liquid splashes over the sides. He doesn’t care. “Wait, are you _serious?”_

Kravitz shrugs in that bashful way of his and hides his face behind a sip of his own wine.

And that is completely unacceptable so Taako turns on the oven and starts pulling out ingredients.

~~~

_{ii}_

So it’s not exactly what he’d planned, but it’s nice. Really nice. Kravitz has flour smudged on his nose and a smile on his face. The kitchen is a mess and Taako’s nicest flirty-casual outfit is smeared with batter and chocolate and they’d had to run out to the nearest store to get baking powder, but all of that is worth it to see Kravitz’s expression when he takes his first bite.

His shoulders soften. His eyelids flutter. He lets out a barely audible moan that has Taako biting back a crude joke because cookies are far too sacred for that kind of comment.

“Any good, Walmart man?”

The cookies are good. Taako knows the cookies are good, because he’s the one who made them. Of _course_ they’re good.

“ _Yes_ ,” says Kravitz emphatically. “ _This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”_

And maybe this isn’t what he’d planned for tonight, but as Taako wipes the flour off of Kravitz’s nose with his thumb and leans in to steal a kiss, he’s thinking that this is just fine as it is.

There will always be another night.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> that's all! hope you enjoyed it. if you did, drop me a comment or visit me on [tumblr](https://thepensword.tumblr.com)!


End file.
